


Unspoken

by purajobot935



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, No Dialogue, Ocean, Sad, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone as talkative as Bluestreak, some times he just doesn't have the words to say what's in his spark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

**Unspoken**

_I hope you never lose your sense of wonder  
You get your fill to eat, but always keep that hunger   
May you never take one single breath for granted   
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed_

Sea gulls cried in piercing voices as they dipped, wheeled and ascended, their silvery-white forms gleaming against the bright, cornflower-blue sky that was patched here and there with large, white, cotton wool clouds. The birds circled in the air, doubled back, and every now and then, one would drop from the sky, dive, and snatch a fish from just below the surface of the water.

_I hope you still feel small, when you stand beside the ocean  
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens   
Promise me that you'll give fate the fighting chance   
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance   
I hope you dance ....   
I hope you dance ...._

The ocean stretched out endlessly, as blue as the sky itself, but with a dash of aqua-green blended into it. The calm surface shimmered irregularly, making the overhead sun’s light glitter like diamonds on the ripples. Waves rose and fell, crashing against an army of rocks and sending up a snowy-fine mist of spray that flew along the sheer, rocky, cliff-face, all the way to the top.

_I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance  
Never settle for the path of least resistance   
Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin'   
Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin'_

The top of the cliff was gently uneven, with large, rounded rocks jutting up amidst the thick grass that grew there, fringing the edge of the cliff. Wildflowers blossomed a-plenty in all their bright, colorful glory – pinks, yellows, reds, lilacs and whites contrasting pleasantly against the rich, lush green of the grass. All rustled gently as a light breeze, from the dusky hills and tawny valley behind, ran its fingers through them on its way to join the strong ocean winds.

Bluestreak sat there, a-top the cliff, just a little away from the edge, on a flat, soft patch of grass, his legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back on his palms. He gazed out across the ocean, now and again stopping to watch the sea gulls play, and once in a while, to see if he could make out a clear shape in the clouds. Once the birds ceased to amuse him, or the clouds were too disfigured for him to mold, he looked back out over the water – his optics glowing softly, reflecting the blue of the sea.

_Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter  
When you come close to selling out, reconsider   
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance   
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance_

The wind blew against him, caressing his face and body like the gentle kiss of a bird’s feathered wing – light, soft and gentle – and wrapped around him in an evanescent embrace. The grass rustled louder, as if calling to him to look at and admire its brightly colored floral decorations.

But the sunlight glistened on his face, revealing evidence of moisture there, though whether it was the cause of the sea spray, or tears, it was hard to tell. Both were plentiful. Sighing, he drew his legs up and hugged them to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He didn’t bother to glance behind him as a shadow fell across his back. He knew who it was.

The shadow stretched back and joined to a pair of black and white feet, that stretched up into Jazz’s stocky, but agile, black and white frame. He stood there – right leg a little in front of the left, left hand on his hip, right hand resting at ease by his side. The visor he wore, as blue as the sky above him, made it hard for another to fathom what went on behind it, no one would ever know for sure what Jazz was really thinking or feeling. Like now.

The expression on his face was that of a sad smile, as if he could really feel what was going on inside Bluestreak’s head, and he could understand it. Behind the visor, where none would ever see, the Special Operations Agent silently wept for the young gunner sitting before him. Bluestreak shouldn’t have to suffer like this. Jazz knew he couldn’t change the past, but he could still offer the younger mech some hope for the future.

_I hope you dance  
(Time is a wheel in constant motion)   
I hope you dance   
(Always rolling us along)   
I hope you dance   
(Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder)  
I hope you dance  
(Where those years have gone)._

Jazz took a few steps forward, feeling the grass brushing against his ankles. He stopped halfway and looked down around him. A gust of wind bade the wildflowers bow before him, and he stooped, closed his fingers around a stem and picked one with cheerful pink and yellow petals. The sight of something so small and delicate, yet so beautiful, helped to dry some of the tears that spilled from his laser core. He hoped it could do the same for Bluestreak.

He came up on Bluestreak’s right side and held out his hand – the flower held gently in his fingers. Bluestreak looked up at him, solid black and white against the golden glow of the sun. he looked at the flower in his friend’s hand, then back up at his face questioningly. Jazz smiled and raised his optic ridges as if to say _take it._

Bluestreak took it and Jazz’s smile widened to a grin. He took it as a cue and sat down on a soft patch of grass, next to the young gunner. Bluestreak brushed the velvety petals against his nose, breathing in the sweet, floral scent. As he did, something ran glittering down his face. A tear. Jazz placed a hand on the other mech’s shoulder – an unspoken assurance that he was there for him.

_I hope you still feel small, when you stand beside the ocean  
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens   
Promise me that you'll give fate the fighting chance   
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance_

A sob escaped Bluestreak’s lips – the first sound he’d made in all this time. Jazz stretched his arm out further and wrapped it around the younger bot’s shoulders – a move that all but said _let it out._ So he did. Head bowed and resting against Jazz’s shoulder, he cried. He wept for everyone – every single mech and femme – that he’d loved, cared for, and lost in the last few millennia; and he wept also for those he loved and still had, in fear that he might one day lose them too. The flower he clutched in his hand, as if it was the only thing that bound him to the fool’s hope that maybe one day, things would be alright. There would be no more senseless acts of killing.

_Dance…  
I hope you dance…_

Jazz’s strong arm supported his friend’s trembling body. He didn’t care about the little stream of optic fluid that ran down his shoulder. He didn’t care that his shoulder was growing numb from holding up the weight of Bluestreak’s head. He didn’t even care when Bluestreak gripped that shoulder tightly with his own hand. He just cared about Bluestreak. Period. A diamond-tear of his own escaped his optic and ran glittering down his face from under his visor. He brushed it away with his right hand.

The two sat like that for a while. The crashing of the waves below grew louder as the tide slowly crept in. the sun slowly made its way to the west, gradually darkening the blue of the sea and sky. The wind blew stronger, and every now and then, they were coated in a fine mist of salt water. Yet, neither one moved. To them it was as if time had stopped completely, as they sat there together on that cliff-top.

Finally, Bluestreak’s trembling grew calmer, his sobs weaker and softer. His stream of tears reduced to a low ebb till it finally dried up completely. He eased his grip on Jazz’s shoulder, not noticing the light indentations his fingers had made. Jazz, for his part, never winced once, though the grip had hurt like the slag. A little pain now and then was both bearable and welcome, as it served as a reminder of the pain some of his friends went through on a daily basis. Instead, he gave Bluestreak’s shoulders a small squeeze.

_I hope you dance  
(Time is a wheel in constant motion)   
I hope you dance   
(Always rolling us along)   
I hope you dance   
(Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder)  
I hope you dance  
(Where those years have gone)._

Bluestreak heaved a deep sigh and raised his head. His optics still glowed, a little brighter and clearer now, than they had been before. Jazz patted him on the back, the gears in his shoulder and elbow grinding stiffly as he bent them. He smiled at the young gunner and then held up another flower, this one a deep red, a gesture that asked, _feeling better?._ Bluestreak took the flower, a shadow of a smile creeping across his own face. _A little._ Jazz grinned again, _that’s good._

He drew his hand back and both of them looked out across the sea. Most of the gulls had since left the open sky and returned to their nests, leaving only the two Autobots outline against the horizon. The wind blew, rustling the grass again, and now with the gulls quiet, they could hear it as it whistled past their audios. A tiny butterfly fluttered past and hovered around in front of them. Bluestreak held up the flowers and the pretty, little insect rested on the red one for a few seconds, before flapping its wings and fluttering off in search of more flowers. The gunner’s lips twitched, the shadows fading and the smile growing.

Jazz nudged him gently and inclined his head back. _Time to go._ Bluestreak nodded. The black and white mech stood up, extended a hand, and helped the silver mech to his feet. _Let’s go._ The younger bot hesitated a second, then shrugged, turned and hugged his older friend. _Thanks._ Jazz was caught slightly off-guard by the hug, but recovered and patted Bluestreak on the back, then pulled away. _You’re welcome._

_Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder  
Where those years have gone._

Together, Special Operations Agent and Gunner walked down the cliff-path that would take them back to the road that led home. Neither said a word. They didn’t need to. The truest feelings and emotions were best conveyed unspoken.

~End.

**Author's Note:**

> Written around 2004, I wanted to challenge myself with this fic. Till this, a lot of my fics had been very dialogue-heavy, so I wanted to see if I could write a fic where there was no dialogue used at all. This was the result... I might be a little proud of it.
> 
> Song: "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack


End file.
